


Never Just Anything (Everything)

by Nevcolleil



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-28 12:42:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15049313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nevcolleil/pseuds/Nevcolleil
Summary: “Come on, now. Don’t make an old man beg..." Jack says, and a few years ago - if you’d told Mac he would one day catch himself rolling his eyes during one of the sexiest moments of his life, climbing on top of the person who Mac has finally accepted is probably the love of his life - he’d have said no way.“Youdorealize all that ‘old man’ crap doesn’t work as well when I can see you naked, right?” Mac rolls his eyes all the same and says, sliding his hands up the underside of Jack’s thighs and beneath the other man’s knees.





	Never Just Anything (Everything)

**Author's Note:**

> Some pleasant nonnie requested top!Mac and I have done my best to provide :p

Mac had thought that maybe having Jack trust him like this wouldn’t be so different from the way that Jack trusts him, so immediately and so completely, out in the field.

That it wouldn’t really feel all that different.

He’d had no idea.

Having Jack trust him like _this_ \- spread out for Mac on Mac’s bed... naked, cock flushed and leaking, legs splayed to accommodate Mac between them, ready for anything-

Oh, it feels different.

It definitely feels different.

By the time Mac is ready to open up the lube and start opening _Jack_ up, he has to stop for a moment, one hand tight at the base of his own cock, close his eyes and just breathe. Try to think of other things.

“You okay down there, Mac?” Jack asks, arms tucked behind his head and propped up by pillows. Looking totally at ease, no matter how hard and needy his cock looks, while Mac feels like he’s going to shake apart at any moment.

“I can do it myself, if you’d rather. You can just kick back and watch,” Jack offers.

That little shit.

“ _Fuck_ , Jack...” Mac little more than whispers, nearly doubling over to maintain his control of himself.

Thermonuclear containment destabilization... acute radial bone separation- Mac fills his brain with distracting thoughts and images, and _just_ manages to stave off coming over his own fist like a- like an inexperienced _child_. 

Jack would never make fun of him for that. For _anything_ that truly makes Mac uncomfortable - but there’s no way Mac’s putting that correlation into Jack’s head, all the same.

Mac is _not_ a “kid”.

He’s almost thirty years old, damn it. He’s had sex before. He’s had _this_ kind of sex before. He can handle a little foreplay, a little oral - just to get things started - and not orgasm before they’ve even prepared for, what Jack called, the “main event.”

He’s just-

It’s _Jack_.

Things are still really new between them. Mac didn’t think, until a couple of weeks ago, that he could ever even have this. And now he has Jack, whenever they’re free and Mac wants him.

(“I mean it,” Jack said, as they lay in a tangle of limp, sex-drained bodies - Mac lying atop Jack’s chest where he’d collapsed after riding Jack to exhaustion. “You say the word and I’m yours, partner. Hell. You don’t even have to say anything. Just _gesture_ at me. I’ll be good to go.”

“I’m terrible at charades,” is the type of profound, genius-level pillow talk Mac was capable of providing after the first time he had sex with the man he’s been in love with since _Afghanistan_.

Jack just smiled at him - Mac could feel his grin as Jack pressed it to the top of Mac’s head and kissed him.

“Oh, I’m sure I’ll get the gist,” Jack said.)

Mac takes a couple more deep breaths, opens his eyes and tries to look at Jack’s body a little more objectively. Just for the moment. Just long enough to finish getting himself under control.

“You just- You tell me if I do anything too fast or- Or if you want me to stop,” Mac looks up and catches Jack’s eye and says.

“I will, Angus,” Jack says. “Not a blushing virgin here. You do anything I don’t like - or anything I _really_ do - trust me, you’ll know.”

Mac lets out what feels like the last three of his breaths, caught nervously in his throat, at once in a steadying sigh.

“Alright.”

Then he wets one fingertip with the lube and gently circles the entrance to Jack’s body before beginning a teasingly slow slide inside.

‘Not a _blushing virgin_ ,’ Mac thinks. ‘Thanks, Jack.’ Mac knew _that_ much going into this. He knows that Jack’s been with men before. Jack’s never said whether or not he’s been with men like _this_ , but regardless, Mac wants so much for Jack’s first time doing it this way with _him_ to be as good as the sex has been between them so far-

He’s watching Jack’s body closely for tells of discomfort. Still trying not to get lost in the sheer pleasure of seeing so much of Jack and seeing him this way - every tan line, every dark hair, every muscle.

Mac doesn’t catch on right away that Jack is being uncharacteristically quiet, but when he does, he shifts his focus back up to the head of the bed, and when he does-

“ _Oooh_ , oh, fuck-” stutters out of Jack on a moan, breaking the silence Mac had only just noticed, as Mac - startled - sinks into Jack more quickly that he’d intended, almost up to the last knuckle of his finger. “Fuck, yes, Mac, that’s good-”

“What happened to letting me know when I do something you really like?” Mac asks, sounding just as breathless as he feels in the face of- Well. Jack’s _face_. 

“Th-This is me letting you know,” Jack replies, sounding no better.

Mac watches Jack’s face this time, as he slides his finger back out of Jack, then presses back in. And that-

Oh.

That’s that.

That makes Mac feel so much more confident about his ability to do this - and to do it well enough for his lover.

Mac is finally able to get out of his head, where he’s been so afraid of getting lost - and loses himself instead in every slack expression he can coax onto Jack’s face with just the motions of his fingers, every sound he can tease out of the other man.

He’s varying between one, two, and three fingers - between scissoring Jack open gently, and firmly massaging the walls of the warm passage he’s preparing for himself - when Mac breaks down and starts to release the soft sounds building up inside of him as well.

“God, Jack, you’re so- You’re so _responsive_ , Jesus...” Mac can’t help but say as he watches Jack writhe on his fingers, his body clenching around Mac in a way that’s going to have Mac gripping at the base of his own cock again shortly. The desire shuddering up his spine is clear in the shudder that wracks Mac’s voice.

“You ain’t seen nothing yet, baby,” Jack pants when Mac slides his fingers all the way out and Jack recovers himself enough to speak.

Jack fixes his lust-blown gaze on Mac’s and lets go of the bedsheets he’s been fisting to wave at Mac in a ‘get up here’ gesture.

Then groans when Mac just blinks at him. “Come on, now. Don’t make an old man beg... I am _past_ ready for you, dude. Any more ready and I’m gonna be done before we even begin.”

A few years ago, if you’d told Mac he would one day catch himself rolling his eyes during one of the sexiest moments of his life - climbing on top of the person who Mac has finally accepted is probably the love of his life... (okay, probably much more than ‘probably’) He’d have said no way.

“You _do_ realize all that ‘old man’ crap doesn’t work as well when I can see you naked, right?” Mac rolls his eyes all the same and says, sliding his hands up the underside of Jack’s thighs and beneath the other man’s knees.

Banter makes up a good forty percent of Mac’s daily life - at least. It keeps him alive out in the field, helps him keep Jack alive, in ways that and more often than Mac could ever explain. 

And it’s saving him here and now too. Mac moves between Jack’s legs, pulls them up at the knees to either side of his hips, like he’s done this a thousand times before, not a handful, and never with anyone who meant as much to him as Mac’s come to realize that Jack does-

“My aging well doesn’t give you an excuse to not respect your elders,” Jack quips back at him, and the bantering helps _so_ much that Mac doesn’t miss the little hitch in Jack’s breath as he speaks, the sliver of something wild that mixes with the heat and - yes - affection that Mac sees in Jack’s eyes.

Those things make Mac’s heart pound maybe even more than the sensation of Mac’s cock bumping against Jack’s slicked skin as Mac lines himself up to push home.

So maybe it’s a mistake when Mac tries to tease the way he normally would after a line like that - by saying “Yes, sir” in a faux-reverent manner. 

Like this, Mac’s rough, low voice doesn’t sound _faux_ anything. He sounds absolutely serious, but by now he’s breaching the tight rim of Jack’s hole, easing forward. Their lips are a breath apart, Jack’s eyes so close to his own that Mac can see the tiny pinpricks of amber mixed in with the warm dark brown of Jack’s irises, and the last thing Mac cares about is pretending that the chance to make love to Jack is in any way something Mac takes lightly.

Mac watches Jack’s lashes flutter shut over those eyes and fits his mouth across Jack’s parted lips, swallowing Jack’s moan.

Then Mac steadily - no more teasing - sinks inch by inch forward until Jack’s legs are folded up basically beneath Mac’s arms, their groins are flush, and it’s taking everything in Mac to resist the desperate, inarticulate rhythm his body begs him to dive right into once the hot clench of Jack’s body has finally taken in all of him.

“Yeah... hell, yeah... Knew this would be good. Fuck. I knew it,” Mac barely makes out Jack rambling through the sound of his own deep, almost panting breaths. “Move, baby... You can move now. Come on, Mac-”

“C-can’t,” Mac gasps, holding very still for a moment longer. Subdermal hemorrhaging... that time, back in high school, when a long-time bully humiliated Mac in front of the entire cafeteria-

Mac has to get more creative than ever to keep calm and keep in control fully seated inside of Jack. Even after thorough preparation, Jack is _tight_. Mac doesn’t have the slight burn he always makes sure he’ll feel when Jack takes him, insisting that he’s fully prepped when he knows that he could probably take a few moments more to _really_ loosen up, to steady him during sex like he usually does.

“What do you mean you can’t? Are you al-” Jack begins to ask, with genuine concern in his voice - twisting beneath Mac, presumably, to get a look at Mac’s face.

Mac can only let him, barely able to bite back the whimper that wants to pass his lips at the feel of Jack squirming beneath him.

“Holy shit, are you serious?” Jack asks.

Mac’s face burns.

But not in a- Not in a _bad_ way, necessarily. The way Jack speaks - the sound of his voice...

He sounds like he’s in _awe_. Mac’s frozen on top of him like a _literal_ bushing virgin, and Jack sounds awed about it - like it’s the single sweetest thing he’s ever seen - not a hint of censure or skepticism or even amusement to be found in his tone.

Mac’s helpless little laugh sounds as shaken as he feels. “Afraid so.”

Jack also sounds genuinely baffled when he says, “Mac... It’s just _me_ , man.” His own laughter sounds nervous. Like he gets it... but he’s not sure he _gets_ it? “It’s just me.”

“Exactly,” Mac can only say, trying to let as much tension leave him on the sigh that follows the word as he can coax away. And then on the next.

Until, tentatively, it feels safe to rock his hips back - and then roll them forward. Apparently fast enough to catch Jack off guard, because Jack’s breath catches again, and his hands scrabble at Mac’s shoulders.

“O-ooh... there you go,” stutters out of Jack and against Mac’s skin as Jack turns his face into the curve of Mac’s neck and he places a kiss there. “There you go, Angus, yeah-”

“Fuck,” Mac hears himself whisper before he even realizes he’s cursing. 

He rocks back again... rolls forward- Once more. And then again. And finally he has a real rhythm started.

It’s.

It’s no better than being spread out and pinned down by Jack’s weight, catered to by the snap of Jack’s hips, the gentle positioning of Jack’s strong hands. But honestly, Mac isn’t sure how _anything_ could be better than that. Being the one catering to Jack in this way certainly runs a close tie as the most satisfying sexual experience Mac could imagine. Reading Jack’s body for his reactions to Mac’s movements, his speed and his angle, and having the leverage to adjust accordingly- It’s a heady thing, being given so much range in which to chase the very _best_ of Jack’s reactions. The specific combinations of speed and motion and positioning to make Jack’s muscles shake and his body arch.

Not that Mac has to rely fully on his own interpretations of Jack’s body language to do it - despite the unusual silence that seemed to fall over Jack when Mac first began prepping him, Mac learns quickly that Jack is just as talkative with a cock inside of him as he is when he’s buried inside of Mac.

“Oh, yeah... Fuck yeah, do that again, Angus. Y-yes, yes, just like that...”

In the same way, Mac finds himself just as tongue-tied during sex as he ever is. Words cascade through his mind with every burst of pleasure that lights it up, sing back down along his nerves and gather on his tongue, only to come out of him as throaty groans and moans that sound obscene in his own ears. Mac’s never been silent in bed, exactly, but sex with Jack always makes him more vocal than he could have imagined being before.

And more sappy and sentimental - if only in Mac’s head, where he wonders if this is just what sex is like with someone who’s witnessed him accidentally trigger a bomb he was trying to disarm, and then have to pull a Hail Mary to stop it from killing them both. Someone who’s seen that and _still_ trusts him, out in the field and here in bed - who swears on a regular basis that he’ll never stop.

Or does the intensity of this come from those promises Jack makes Mac so often - and the fact that they started well before Mac had even the slightest hope that Jack could want this with him? Mac _longed_ to touch Jack like this, and Mac wouldn’t usually classify the things he wants in life as things he’s ‘longed’ for - but the few things he would? (To see his mom again, to know why his dad didn’t want him... to be found interesting for something other than his intelligence or his facial structure-) Those things Mac didn’t have such a great track record at getting, before Jack.

“God, Jack...” is among the few thoughts Mac can shape into speech as he moves under the direction of Jack’s breathless pillowtalk and his body’s wordless commands. Jack’s hands grip Mac’s shoulders, slide up and down his back.

Mac kisses whatever part of Jack he can get to - the side of Jack’s throat as Jack rolls his head back, Jack’s ear, the curve of one shoulder. His hands cling to Jack’s thighs as well as Mac can with sweat now slicking both of them, until he can’t stand not kissing Jack’s mouth for a moment more.

“Mac... baby... Holy shit-,” Jack pants. “I could- I could come just like this... Hands-off, Jesus Christ. I think I’m gonna, _fuck-”_

His voice _breaks_ , his hands slip-slide over the small of Mac’s back and clutch at Mac’s ass, and Mac’s hips snap-stutter in response. 

That’s finally, undeniably, all that Mac can take. 

Mac lets go of Jack’s legs, leaves him to hold their position as best he can, because Mac has to take Jack’s face into his hands, hold it still, and kiss the man for all he’s worth. 

The change in position brings their bodies sliding against one another more than before as Jack’s legs fall slightly to either side of Mac, and Jack’s cock rubs and bumps against the slippery planes of Mac’s stomach as Mac pumps into Jack, desperately trying to maintain the same effect he was giving Jack before from this new angle. 

Jack moans throughout, hands grabbing Mac now so tightly, Mac’s sure to have Jack’s fingers imprinted along the curves of his ass tomorrow in slender bruises. 

In no time, Jack’s breath stutters and leaves him as his body goes rigid beneath Mac, cock jerking and twitching between them and emptying across both their bodies. 

Mac’s own orgasm implodes inside him and he cries out into their continuing kiss. 

He rides out that implosion with lazy, lingering thrusts into and out of Jack - like the piston of his body has suddenly snapped, or melted, leaving only his basest components operating functionally. 

When his hands slip, fatigued, to Jack’s shoulders, Jack’s hands find Mac’s face and the kiss that came with them through their completion follows them until they’ve both settled into stillness, lying tangled in one another. 

It’s Jack, too, that rolls them onto their sides when Mac can barely summon the energy to carefully pull himself out of Jack. But that’s all that Jack seems capable of doing in the aftermath of their experience. When Mac’s recovered himself enough to climb shakily out of the bed to retrieve a washcloth and clean the both of them up enough for them to rest comfortably, Jack barely cracks one eye open to watch him. He lies there, breathing heavily, and when Mac grins at him as he crawls back into bed, Jack winks before doing a fairly good impression of an English vine, wrapping Mac up in both his arms and legs while they settle into Jack’s sheets and pillows. 

The near-silence of shared breaths and the hum of Jack’s ceiling fan above them is the best kind of quiet Mac thinks he’s ever known. 

And that’s before Jack interrupts it with a sex-rough voice, saying, “Damn, baby. We are _absolutely_ doing that again, oh my lord. I feel like my bones are made of jello.” 

Mac laughs. He feels such a tangle of emotional and physical satisfaction, pride, relief and that ever-present tension that’s been inside of Mac since his and Jack’s relationship evolved this way (that awareness of ‘this is mine now - this is mine to enjoy while I have it’) that Mac feels practically _giddy_. He wonders if Jack can hear all that in his laughter, or if he just assumes that Mac’s happiness comes from the chemical release of really good sex. 

Mac’s so distracted in his wondering, in reveling in the warm comfort of the position he’s sure to doze off in soon, that he doesn’t even tense up when Jack adds, “But you know... even if I didn’t... That’d be okay. You do know that, right?” 

“What are you talking about?” Mac asks sleepily, before his brain catches up. His eyes snap open and he stares across Jack’s bedroom at nothing in particular, mentally struggling to reconcile the careful tone of Jack’s question with the easy drape of his limbs over Mac’s body. 

“Just saying,” Jack says, and then pauses for so long that Mac wonders if that’s all he’s _going_ to say on the subject. Or if Mac should try to work another request for clarification past the heart in his throat. 

“Even if it wasn’t _that_ good,” Jack finally speaks back up, “and, I mean. Babe. The best sex of my _life_ before you wasn’t as good as a single moment I’ve spent making love to you... Not a single one. You blew my _mind_ just now, Angus. Seriously.” 

Mac... honestly doesn’t know what he’s done to earn that much praise. Much less spoken so directly to him. 

“Same here, man,” he says thickly, and thinks that he sounds ridiculously - _unforgiveably_ \- lame. Perhaps Jack, somehow - despite the no doubt telling way Mac completely _loses his mind_ when they’re naked together - needs the same reassurances? God knows Jack deserves them. Mac knows he deserves all those and more. He’s just not sure how to say them, at a moment like this - after he’s just about shaken apart in Jack’s arms - without sounding every bit as hopelessly gone on his partner as he knows himself to be. 

Jack kisses Mac on the nape of Mac’s neck, as if in thanks for even that paltry an offering of the praise Mac would give him right now if he could. 

And then he says, “But. I mean... Even if, somehow, for some reason, the sex, like, _sucked_... You know. Not that I can even imagine how it _could_. But if it did, I’d still be _super_ psyched just to be having it with you, Mac... You know _that_ , right?” 

That is not a thing that Mac knew, actually. 

And it sounds like what Jack is saying is _good_ , is- 

But. 

“Why are you telling me this?” Mac asks evenly. If Jack isn’t saying what Mac _thinks_ he’s saying, and Mac lets himself believe it- 

“Just... Dude. You’ve been _bringing it_. Every frickin’ time,” Jack tells him, in that same careful tone - but still holding Mac so comfortably, so naturally - like there’s nothing else he’d rather do, even though they’re presumably done for the night (they’ve got an early morning) and Mac knows that Jack likes sleeping on his stomach more than on his side. 

“And believe me... I am _not_ complaining,” Jack says cheekily before becoming serious. “But, in case you somehow didn’t know... You don’t have to bust your ass to wow me each and every time we try something new in the sack, Mac. Trust me. Just getting to touch you at all packs a pretty big wow factor as far as I’m concerned.” 

It’s not just Jack’s tone of voice that’s become careful, Mac realizes. It’s everything about him. His easy embrace is _deliberately_ easy - non-restricting. His body isn’t just relaxed against Mac’s; Jack’s lying unusually still. Even his breathing seems carefully regulated. There’s no way he’s not saying what Mac thinks he’s saying, and Mac may be a little slow when it comes to things like this, sometimes, but he can understand a thing when it’s spelled out directly to him. At least when Jack’s the one doing the spelling. 

In the tense silence that sets in immediately after Jack’s finished saying his piece, Mac releases a deep-seated sigh and says, “Oh, thank god.” 

The tension drains right out of him - and out of Jack too. 

Mac feels Jack’s quiet chuckle with Jack’s chest pressed tight up against his back. 

“I hoped you might think so,” says Jack. “I mean, I kinda figured. I didn’t peg you as the ‘buddies with benefits’ type of guy.” 

“I’m definitely not,” Mac confirms, endlessly thankful that Jack didn’t call the arrangement that he’s _feared_ they might have stumbled into by a cruder euphemism. He doesn’t even like the sound of that alternative in his head in relation to them. 

“I just couldn’t be sure,” Jack says. “Seemed like an awful lot to hope for.” 

“When you said I could call you anytime for... more,” Mac shares his side of the misunderstanding, “I thought that was your way of saying that that’s as far as this thing was going to go. Like, to keep me from getting carried away or something.” 

Jack shakes Mac a little, as well as he can with them both lying here (to use Jack’s description of it) jello-boned as they are, and that giddiness that Mac felt before comes back stronger than ever, stretching Mac’s lips until his cheeks ache. 

“Dude, you know me better than that!” Jack says directly into Mac’s skin, smacking a line of kisses across his shoulderblades. “When have _I_ ever been the one to try and stop _you_ from getting carried away by something?” 

Mac opens his grinning mouth, only to close it again when Jack immediately corrects himself. “ _Not_ including times I’ve had to cut off some stream of geek-speak when there’s been no time for it, because as much as I love your science lessons, Mac, some of ‘em can cause migraines... And _not_ including the craziest of your crazy ideas, when you’ve wanted to do something that stands a greater than sixty percent chance of you getting your damned brave self _dead_ on my watch, because of course I’m not gonna have that.” 

Jack’s teasing register is every bit as natural and comforting to Mac as the strong arms that hold him, and Mac doesn’t even consciously decide to snuggle further into them. He just does. 

“Sorry if I made it sound like I was just looking for some kind of booty call,” Jack says more somberly. “Man, that first time was so hot... I’m surprised my brain didn’t leak out of my ears. And then, soon as the sweat dried, you hopped out of the bed so fast-” 

“I didn’t want to overstay my welcome,” Mac reveals. 

“Yeah, well, that’s why I brought it up. ‘Cause there’s no such thing between you and me. You hear me, Mac? Not on my end, anyway.” 

“Not on mine,” Mac agrees, earning himself another couple of open-mouthed kisses to the back of his neck. 

It’s a powerful incentive for him to keep talking long enough to make _absolutely_ certain that he and Jack are on the same page. 

“So... this isn’t just sex to you either?” 

As he so often does out in the field, seemingly without even realizing he’s done it, Jack says exactly what Mac’s needed to hear, this whole time. 

“Angus... you could never be _just_ anything to me. Everything, maybe... But never just _anything_.” 

Everything. 

Everything sounds good to Mac. 

“And... to be clear,” Mac says, maybe letting that giddiness of his carry him a _little_ bit away, “You’re not just saying all this because you don’t think you can handle me bringing any more of my A game, are you? Old man?” 

Jack’s kisses turn into a sharp nip and a playful growl as Mac laughs at the both of them. 

“Let me take a little nap and then we’ll see who can’t handle who’s A game,” Jack says in a voice that makes Mac’s stomach swoop, even as sated as he still feels. And Mac is so intrigued by the possibilities that he forgets to mind when Jack adds on a cocky, “Okay, kid?” 


End file.
